


A Matter of Interpretation

by Lunatik_Pandora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death Threats, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It is a very oblique reference, Lashing Out, Lowkey pre-wolfstar, Stalking, Teenagers Being Emotional Trainwrecks, The Prank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27615017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunatik_Pandora/pseuds/Lunatik_Pandora
Summary: The truth about The Prank -- the one that had nearly killed Snape and James alike -- was subjective. The story changed depending on who you asked about it.(Snape swore they'd all tried to kill him. James swore Sirius was an idiot. Peter swore he had no idea what was going on. Sirius swore on his mother's life that it had only been his idea. Remus just swore, and swore, and swore.)The truth -- therealtruth -- was... complicated.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	A Matter of Interpretation

**Author's Note:**

> This can technically be read as part of my series, A Different Orbit. The characterizations are the same, it just doesn't add anything to the series as it stands.

It came down to a simple matter of interpretation, really.

Nineteen years after it happened, Severus Snape hissed the story into the darkness, spat it back into their faces with enough venom that they might have both dropped dead if they weren't blessedly immune to his particular strain.

Nineteen years after it happened, Sirius would still insist Snape had deserved it, and Remus still wouldn't disagree. They had bigger fish to fry, the two of them, and, well, fuck him anyway.

Nineteen years after it happened, Severus Snape would tell it all  _ wrong _ , because any story that didn't feature him as the victim wasn't worth telling.

Now, what  _ actually _ happened was this:

After being stalked -- literally,  _ stalked _ ; like, there wasn't a single room or corridor outside of Gryffindor Tower that Remus hadn't seen Snape skulking about, watching him with those mirror-black eyes, never quite threatening but always unsettling -- for all of fourth year and now several weeks into fifth, Remus finally reached his breaking point. Or, perhaps more accurately, his breaking  _ down _ . Safely ensconced in the dorm, he'd shouted the walls down like Jericho for at least half an hour before finally snapping-growling- _ snarling _ that if he managed to catch Snape following him  _ one more fucking time _ , he'd slam him headfirst into the nearest wall and  _ keep _ slamming until he stopped fucking moving, damn the consequences.

Sirius, for his part, had taken one look at Remus' wild eyes, the grit of his teeth, the way his trembling fingers curled reflexively as he verbalised the threat, and Knew he was telling The Truth.

The Truth was a funny thing.

The idea of living in a world without Remus -- whether because Snape had finally grassed him (because apparently baby Death Eaters are  _ fine _ but werewolves who get too stoned and cry over Dark Side of the Moon are  _ not _ ), or because Remus managed to literally kill the greasy git (which was Understandable and Reasonable but also would likely result in his arrest) -- was Anathema to Sirius. Positively Unacceptable. He Knew, the same way that he Knew most things, that he needed to find a way to make Snape back off. Forever, preferably, but even for a week or two would be helpful. Just until Moony got his wits back about him again, because… well. Moony-without-his-wits had been lying face down in his bed listening to The Yardbirds at top volume and not so much as twitching when Prongs chucked several balls of parchment at the back of his curly head while braying at him like a wounded goat or something (presumably aiming for "loud and annoying" and sticking the landing on that one, solid Ten). Which is to say that he wasn't much of a Moony at all.

It hurt to look at him, hurting in his own head -- his own skin -- like that. It was Wrong.

Now, it was at this point that the beginnings of an Idea began to take shape. If, and this was crucial,  _ if _ Remus was serious -- and he was, Sirius Knew -- then it was  _ vital _ that they discouraged Snape from following them as soon as possible.

The only question was, how?

The answer came the day of the Full, when they caught Snivelly skulking about the grounds, sniffing after Remus again, and -- upon questioning -- discovered that he'd seen him following Pomfrey down under the Willow the prior month.

And while he'd hung there, suspended by one ankle, hissing and spitting like a wet cat, threatening them all with bodily harm and swearing he'd find out what they were  _ really _ up to -- whatever that was -- Sirius had looked past Snape's flailing limbs and into Remus' pale, tense face, golden eyes glowing like embers. A look of Understanding passed between them.

"Well," Sirius had drawled. "All you had to do was ask." And he proceeded to carefully and deliberately hand over the keys to their castle.

The Truth was a funny thing.

Despite Evans' protestations to the contrary, Sirius and his friends did  _ not _ enjoy causing people pain, nor did they "hex people for the fun of it." These were Targeted Counterattacks aimed at those whom they had witnessed harassing others. Potions incidents that had gone without punishment, scraps in the halls that got missed; the Marauders had taken it upon themselves to mete out Justice where their authority figures were failing. Most recently, however, was the night that Mary had come back hours past curfew, disheveled and disoriented, sobbing her heart out. She had smelled of strange sweat, of blood and piss and shame, and they Knew.

Mary hadn't wanted to go to the hospital wing. She didn't want the professors to know. They'd tell her parents, and her parents couldn't Know.

But she'd given them names. 

They'd made A List.

Mulciber. Avery. Crouch. Wilkes.

_ Snape _ .

So, no. They didn't want to hurt anyone, except those who'd hurt others first.

When they'd finally let Snape slither off to whatever hole in the castle he lurked in during daylight hours, James had wheeled on him.

"Sirius, what the fuck?"

He'd attempted to stop Sirius during his explanation -- "Just touch the big knot on the trunk, it's simple. Give it a go tonight." -- grabbing his arm and pulling. But Sirius wouldn't be deterred, barking over his protests, watching that savage, victorious light mingle with suspicion in Snape's beady little eyes as he took the proffered information at face value. Peter had only giggled nervously, his eyes wide and watery, wringing his hands, never comfortable when his friends fought each other.

Remus had stared at the place where Snape had vanished around the corner, something predatory and Other in his stillness, contrasting with James' bluster as he lay into Sirius for betraying the one Secret they'd always sworn to keep.

"-Completely irresponsible, I mean he could be killed--!"

" _ Good _ ."

James had frozen, turning to gape at Remus, uncomprehending. He hadn't heard the Truth in Remus' words that night in the dorm. But Sirius was a Black; the dance along the knife's edge of madness was ingrained in his very bones. He knew its steps well, had tasted its tones in the music of Remus' desperate fury, felt its rhythm in the heaving of Remus' breath as he'd flung pillows at the wall with brutal force, the Need to destroy something --  _ anything _ \-- exploding outward instead of in.

Sirius had looked into Remus' eyes at that moment, and he had Seen the warning signs. He had  _ Known _ .

So Remus sat James down and explained with a clinical detachment, mild as milk, that ideally, Snape would meet his match in the boughs of the Willow.

"And if he doesn't?" James had asked. "If he gets through?"

Remus had shrugged, unconcerned.

"Then he gets through."

And he did. Of  _ course _ he did; he wasn't an idiot. Snape was quick, and he was clever, and he'd gotten the door open and seen what had risen behind it before James had hooked a muscled, Chaser's arm around his ribs and thrown him like a Quaffle back down the passageway. James, who was also quick and clever, and had more conscience in his little finger than his three friends had combined, had gone after Snape and saved his worthless life at the risk of his own, getting his nose broken and bloodied and a chest full of scars from the curse Snape had flung at him for his troubles.

After he'd returned from the hospital wing, he'd passed that broken, bloodied nose on to Sirius, who had taken it without comment. James was never meant to have gotten hurt over it.

Remus, with the benefit of hindsight, had been horrified, withdrawing into himself with alarming speed. With blood still staining his collar, Sirius had joined him on the windowsill of the dorm the night after it happened, once James had left in a huff to take Pete to the kitchens. Remus had sat there, smoke curling 'round his fingers, tumbling from his lips, shadows like bruises beneath his eyes, and stared off across the moonlit grounds, caught halfway between longing and despair.

"I was so  _ angry _ ," he'd whispered into the night. "I just wasn't thinking."

Sirius hadn't known what to say to that, so he'd just stayed with him silently, their shoulders pressed together, and let Remus gather his thoughts.

"It's too easy, I think," Remus had continued after the cigarette had nearly burned down to his fingertips. "To  _ say _ that you want to kill someone. To  _ want _ them dead. But saying it and  _ doing _ it… well. Those are two very different things, aren't they?"

And Sirius Knew, the way he'd Known that Remus had meant it in the dorm that night, that Remus had frightened himself with how badly he'd wanted something he hadn't actually wanted. The death of another student had been satisfying in the abstract, a fantasy driven by the adrenaline high of adolescent frustrations bubbling over until the gory reality had reared its head in the aftermath. Until they'd all been sat down in Dumbledore's office together, heads bowed, wilting under the weight of his disapproval.

Until Sirius had spoken up and claimed himself the sole perpetrator. 

James couldn't refute it; he hadn't known. Peter  _ wouldn't _ refute it; he never started it anyhow, and they all knew it. Remus, though… he could have refuted it and  _ would  _ have, except for the fact that for him, it would mean more than several weeks' detention and the risk of expulsion if he put one more toe out of line. Dumbledore had clearly laid out what the consequences could have been for Remus, had Snape or James been injured by him.

_ That _ was the crux of the matter, you see: that  _ James _ had nearly met his end at Remus' jaws, and then at Snape's wand, and Remus -- who had wanted Snape gone so badly he would have killed for it -- and Sirius -- who loved Remus so much he'd have let him -- both Knew that they were responsible.

Remus would have refuted it but  _ shouldn't _ have, so before he could open his mouth to take his portion of the blame, Sirius had barreled in and taken it all for himself.

He was greedy like that, you see.

The professors had eaten it all up, of course; it was the one area where his name still counted for something he could use. Who would ever suspect quiet, clever Remus Lupin of trying to kill another student in cold blood when notorious reckless idiot Sirius Black, who had a well-known axe to grind against the victim,  _ admitted _ it had been his idea all along? That James alone had tried to stop him, Remus and Peter both too stunned, too  _ cowed _ to speak?

The staff never dug any deeper into it, of course, and Snape -- who loudly protested that, no, they were  _ all _ in on it, every one of them, they should be  _ expelled _ \-- had unknowingly provided the cover Sirius needed to keep Remus safe.

Remus, of course, had then tried to turn in his Prefect's badge, understanding why Sirius had done it but unable to bear the shame of Knowing. McGonagall, sharper than she looked, refused to accept his resignation.

"If you're truly repentant, Mr. Lupin, you'll  _ show _ it by living up to your position -- and to the trust I placed in you."

She hadn't Known -- she couldn't have -- but Sirius reckoned she'd always at least had an idea of  _ why _ . 

The Truth was a funny thing; if you asked any one of them what happened that night, they'd all give you different interpretations of the same events:

"Potter and his friends thought it would be fun to try and  _ kill _ me. They're all dangerous and ought to have been expelled. It's gross favoritism, you know."

"Look, it's just a stupid rivalry that got out of hand, alright? He doesn't mean anything by it."

"He  _ deserved _ it, skulking around like he was, the slimy git. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Wuzzat? Well, of  _ course _ I bloody well mean it!"

"Oh, he just thought it'd be amusing if Snape got brained by that mad tree -- what? Well,  _ yes _ , I'd rather thought so, too, to be fair. But... only  _ thought _ , you see."

"I didn't have anything to do with it really, just... they really frighten me sometimes, you know?"

None of them had realised, at the time, the fractures forming beneath the bedrock of their Brotherhood, stemming from that single act. Tiny fissures which later, over the years of War, would deepen and grow into foxholes of paranoia and doubt that they'd dive into, casting suspicious gazes over a vast no man's land of things they Knew but wouldn't speak of. They had pointed accusing fingers at one another, whispering 'What Ifs' behind hands in matching shades of red.

The Truth really was a funny thing. They just hadn't Seen it.

Nineteen years after it happened, when they examined all the wreckage through the lens of everything they'd survived since, determining where the fault truly lay was a simple matter of interpretation.

Which is to say that it wasn't simple at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Teenagers are already impulsive and over-emotional, so what happens when you have one who is stressed out and also has a big secret to hide, and then have him get followed around and harassed constantly by someone who actively hates him and wants to get him in trouble? Dramatic, violent overreaction that escalates horribly? You betcha.
> 
> I dunno, I just get tired of reading a million different variations of Remus being the victim of The Prank, when I find it equally realistic that he had a hand in it himself. And I don't really vibe with the idea of Sirius being so callous as to just completely disregard the dangers of his friend's condition when he literally became an Animagus to help him. I think the idea of him trying to hit a release valve for the tension in the hopes that Remus wouldn't wind up snapping and killing Snape in the middle of the hall one day, and then having it go very poorly, was probably more realistic. 
> 
> I hope that all came across the way I wanted it to. Thanks for reading!


End file.
